


like real people do

by puppyboy (knightspur)



Series: romance is boring [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Camboy Jun, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/puppyboy
Summary: Moving into an apartment with Wen Junhui was a purely economic choice. Wonwoo doesn’t have the money to pay for the place on his own, and for the most part, Junhui is a quiet, unobtrusive presence around the apartment.There is just one exception to this. Junhui pays his share of the rent with the money he makes jerking off in front of strangers online. If Wonwoo was a better person, he would look the other way and pretend not to know anything about Junhui’s source of income. But Wonwoo is not a good person and he knows far too much about it.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Series: romance is boring [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1113936
Comments: 8
Kudos: 255
Collections: Haggly Holidays!





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jolielaide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolielaide/gifts).



Moving into an apartment with Wen Junhui was a purely economic choice. Wonwoo doesn’t have the money to pay for the place on his own, and for the most part, Junhui is a quiet, unobtrusive presence around the apartment.

There is just one exception to this. Junhui pays his share of the rent with the money he makes jerking off in front of strangers online. If Wonwoo was a better person, he would look the other way and pretend not to know anything about Junhui’s source of income. But Wonwoo is not a good person and he knows far too much about it.

When he’s filming, Junhui always sets the room up in a particular way. Identifiable things; his dance team hoodie, homework, little intimate bits of his identity are hidden away. He spreads a clean white sheet over the bed to have less mess to clean up. He puts a wireless webcam at the foot of the bed, pointing at the stack of pillows he lounges on.

Always, he drags his chair away from the desk to sit a foot or two behind the camera. Well out of view of anyone accessing the video online. This is Wonwoo’s spot, for better or worse.

He’s not sure exactly how they fell into this arrangement; where he sits and observes what Junhui does and Junhui stares past the camera and directly at him. It isn’t sex— Wonwoo has never put his hands on Junhui and he’s never _tried_ to. Junhui likes to have a live audience. Wonwoo doesn’t mind serving as one for him.

It takes a while usually for Junhui to get things the way he likes them; the fairy lights that hang behind his bed lit up, all the pillows stacked just so. His last step is to put on the black mask he wears to cover the lower half of his face— printed with a cartoonish kitty-cat face on the front. It's cute, half the time Wonwoo is expecting him to wear it out of the house on a whim. 

"You haven't paid attention to me all day," Junhui says, screwing with one of the lights he has set up in his desk. "But I tell you I'm gonna go live and suddenly you have time." 

Wonwoo _has_ been working on his dissertation for the last few hours, fending off Junhui’s increasingly demanding advances. Finally, this, and Junhui gripes at him for agreeing to even though he was the one who offered. 

"I told you I was gonna take a break," Wonwoo says, settling in the seat. Junhui’s back is to him, the loose shirt he has on riding up his hips. Under that, he's wearing only a pair of sheer navy stockings, ending in lace cuffs around his thighs. They cling to every inch of his legs, molded to the contours of his muscles. Living with Junhui has forced Wonwoo to become accustomed to several strange things; eccentric kitchen appliances, the Chinese folk songs that he sings in the shower, a closet that contains seemingly everything under the sun. 

The last thing Junhui does is lay out a series of toys on the bed; a vibrating wand with a heart-shaped handle, a heavier, darker dildo, and a silicone ring with a small vibrator attached to it. Wonwoo watches him position them, his mouth going dry.

He climbs on the bed after, setting his laptop directly beneath the camera and sitting back on his calves while the stream boots up. While it loads, his attention drifts back to Wonwoo, seated at the foot of his bed. 

Junhui lets him watch because he knows Wonwoo likes it. Junhui likes having a live audience to perform for, too. It's easy to tell; he looks at Wonwoo instead of the camera. He forgets to _act_ like he's having fun and enjoys himself for real, instead. 

"I haven't decided what I'm in the mood for yet," Junhui says, a hard, hungry edge in his voice. He runs his palms over his legs, making the nylon stockings rasp softly. "Any suggestions?" 

Wonwoo doesn't answer him, tries to keep his eyes from lingering too long on the dildo that he set in the middle. He isn't used to being asked for an opinion on what Junhui should be doing to please the camera. Junhui catches his eyes anyway and grins. 

Before the show begins, Junhui pulls the mask over his face, hiding his smile. He lounges back on the bed, legs stretched out, angled to exaggerate their length even further. Even with the lower half of his face hidden, Junhui manages to look flirty, alluring. He has his thigh angled to hide the shape of his cock in the stockings, dragging the ball of his foot down his shin. 

Wonwoo's eyes track the motion and Junhui hums, repeating it. 

"You have to give me all your attention," Junhui says, eyes locked on Wonwoo. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and he nods along unconsciously. He doesn't say a word while Junhui is streaming. He doesn't say anything afterward, either. 

Junhui rarely pays attention to what's being said in the chat. Wonwoo doesn't know how much money Junhui makes doing this, but he's fairly sure it pays his share of the rent. He does bat his eyes for the camera and draws his fingers down the back of his thigh. The shirt has ridden halfway up his ribs and he drags his fingers over the patch of bare skin. 

He's good at what he does. Wonwoo shoves his palm against his cock, hardening in his pants. 

Junhui rolls his hips to the side, sitting upright in a fluid motion. He drags the dildo closer, holding it so it's nearly touching his mouth. 

"You wanna see me ride this?" Junhui asks, his voice lower. He drags his fingers over the smooth surface, wrapping them around the base like he's trying to gauge the thickness. 

Junhui is looking directly at Wonwoo. He nods, trying to cover a hard swallow. 

"I don't want you to come until I'm done," Junhui says, the rounded tip of the toy resting against his stomach. "Can you do that for me?" 

Mute, Wonwoo nods. The corners of Jun’s eyes crinkle, a sign he's smiling behind the mask. He sets the toy to the side, grabbing for lube instead. He's generous with it, coating his fingers in the slick gel before sliding his fingers between his legs. When they find his hole he groans, tipping his chin toward his chest. 

Wonwoo's hands flex into fists in his lap, nails biting into his palms. Junhui takes time opening himself up, the soft gasps and keens of his voice make Wonwoo twitch in his seat every time. 

Junhui pulls his three fingers free, chest shuddering with his heavy breaths. He leverages himself upon his knees, pulling the shirt off and dropping it to the side. One of the stockings has slipped down his leg, hanging around his knee now but Junhui doesn't pause to fix it. Between his legs, his cock is hard and slick at the tip, skin flushed softly pink. 

Sometimes, the rolling camera is the only thing that keeps Wonwoo from putting his hands on Junhui.

He positions the toy between his legs, back arched, ready to sink on it. He waits there a moment, lifting his head to catch Wonwoo's gaze once again. 

"You can touch yourself now, baby," he says, rocking his hips down against the toy. "Do you want more?" He leans forward when Wonwoo fumbles his sweatpants off, humming in the back of his throat. "Show me."

Wonwoo doesn't need to be told twice. He wraps his hand around his dick and hisses. It's impossible to take his eyes off of Jun. It’s difficult, sometimes— forcing himself to stare at Junhui until the afterimage is burned into his eyes. 

Jun has a lot of practice at this. He knows how to make himself feel good and he lowers his ass on the toy with even, steady pressure. When he settles all the way down he sighs, letting his head lean back between his shoulders. Wonwoo could sculpt his collarbones from memory— every fine bone that defines his chest from neck to hips, every protruding rib. 

After a moment he picks his head up and fixes his gaze on Wonwoo again, the darkness of his stare turning Wonwoo’s gut molten.

“You can do better than that,” Junhui says, a smile twitching up on his face. “Can’t you?”

He rocks his hips back and forth, his voice stuttering in a hum. Jun wraps his hand around his dick, tugging on himself lazily. Wonwoo, without thinking, picks up the same rhythm. Jun plants his other hand behind him and leans his weight back, using the leverage to bounce his hips up and down with more speed. The impact of his hips makes the springs groan— whoever has the room underneath Junhui’s must hate them.

Wonwoo rolls his palm in circles around the head of his cock, mouth falling open. He strangles any sound from coming out, just the damp, heavy breathing that he can’t help. It’s obvious when Junhui has the angle he wants— his thighs tremble and precome slips down his cock, running down the outside of his knuckles.

Junhui has a great deal more patience than Wonwoo does; he takes his time fucking himself, swaying and twisting his hips to find the spots he wants, hands dragging over his body. Wonwoo can’t touch him, can’t even interrupt with speech. He has to slow his hand and squeeze his fingers around the base of his cock, trying not to think about how tight the squeeze of Junhui’s rim must be.

They’ve done this plenty of times before. It always makes Wonwoo feel weird in the end; feverish, empty. But it’s always worth it too. Junhui puts on a good show, it’s easy to see how he pays the rent this way. He drives his hips down and groans nails dragging across the sheets. The noises he’s making have started to turn toward frustrated, fractured at the ends. He eventually reaches out, fumbling until he finds the vibrator he pulled out before. He puts the tip of it against the base of his cock and flicks it on.

The vibrations are loud in the relative quiet in the room, more than enough to cover up the harsh edge of Wonwoo’s breathing. He wishes he could tell Junhui that he’s so close to coming that it hurts. He also wants to tell Jun that he’ll wait forever if that’s what he has to do. The vibrations against his dick make Junhui’s toes curl, his body curling forward as if to shield himself from it. His muscles are so tight that his whole body must ache.

“Junhui…” Wonwoo’s voice is strange to his ears, throaty and soft. He didn’t mean to say anything at all. He knows better than to interrupt—

Junhui’s lips part and he re-focuses on Wonwoo. He looks surprised too. Wonwoo is expecting that he’ll ignore it altogether. It’s possible that no one watching heard over the rest of it. But Junhui drops the vibrator, leaving it still running, pitching forward to slam his laptop shut. 

“Wait, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—” The air in the room is thick and hard to breathe. 

“Come here.” Junhui shakes his head, crooking his fingers in Wonwoo’s direction. 

The chair is across the room, out of his reach, and so Wonwoo has to get up and go to him. Junhui pulls at him, hands feeling for his hips tugging him in closer. On instinct, Wonwoo puts his hands out to the side, breathing in shallow gasps.

“If you don’t touch me _right now_ Wonwoo, I swear,” Junhui says, his voice pitching into desperation. He shoves at Wonwoo’s pants, breathing hot against the side of his neck. “Tell me you’re cool with this.”

His hand finds Wonwoo’s cock, palm already slick with his precome, and Wonwoo makes a sound that’s unfamiliar to his ears. “God, yes. Junnie, please—” Wonwoo fumbles with the mask, pulling the loops free and dropping it to the side.

Junhui kisses him on the mouth before anything else comes out. Wonwoo touches him like a nervous teen, fingers skittering over his ribs and thighs, scared to touch him exactly the way he wants to. At first, Junhui is distracted by exploring the corners of Wonwoo’s mouth with his tongue, fingers knotted in the back of his hair. But Junhui grabs at Wonwoo’s wrist with his other hand, pulling it between his legs.

Wonwoo finds the wide base of the dildo that Junhui still has inside of him, pulling it out halfway before sliding it back in. Junhui breaks the kiss to groan against Wonwoo’s lips, taking the chance to wrestle the shirt over his head as well.

Junhui melts back into the sheets, legs spread, letting Wonwoo experiment with the toy inside him. He’s languid when Wonwoo fucks him, knee draped over the inside of Wonwoo’s arm, mouth hanging open. He drags his nails over the outside of Wonwoo’s arm, still trying to pull him in closer.

“You can do it yourself if you wanna,” Junhui says, a loose smile on his face. “I have some other neat stuff you can, ah, try too.”

“You want me to…” Wonwoo trails off, unsure if he’s prepared to suggest it himself.

“Fuck me?” Junhui asks, giggling. “I figured it was kinda obvious. I can do the other way if you want.”

The idea makes Wonwoo’s heartbeat stutter out of rhythm. It’s something he’s considered before, though he’s never _told_ Junhui that. But as it is, Junhui’s rim is stretched and slick and he’s arching his body into Wonwoo’s, rolling his hips in little half-thrusts, looking for more friction. He’s breathless but there’s still a smile stretched across his face.

“I can…” Wonwoo puts a hand on his hip, the back of his neck burning red. He clears his throat, trying to add a little more strength to his voice. “I want to.”

That’s all Junhui needs to hear, it seems. He flips to the two of them; Wonwoo flat on the bed, his arms arrayed loosely over his head. Junhui slides the toy out, dropping it to the side of the bed without much thought and sinks himself on Wonwoo’s cock instead, lips falling open with a sigh of satisfaction. Wonwoo’s hands find his waist, fingers mapping the plane of his back. 

He’s seen Junhui from every angle before, but it does nothing to prepare him for the feeling of Junhui’s hole slowly enveloping him, already stretched and fucked loose. Junhui’s hips settle against his and Wonwoo has to blink stars from his eyes, nails digging into his back. There’s a slight shine of sweat on his collarbone, the array of lights making his skin glow dewy pink. 

The roll of Junhui’s hips is slow and easy at the start, rocking them back and forth and letting Wonwoo get used to the heat of his body. Wonwoo groans, grabbing at Junhui’s hips and trying to thrust up into him in return. It throws Junhui’s rhythm off, makes him grunt and rock his hips back onto Wonwoo’s with more force.

His hands drop to Wonwoo’s wrists, taking hold of them and pulling them away from his hips to pin them to the sheets above Wonwoo’s head. He gathers both of them into one hand, the angle bringing them chest-to-chest, close enough for Junhui’s panting breathes to graze over Wonwoo’s cheek. Junhui grins, his eyes devious.

“You said you’d wait,” Junhui says, lilting. “You’re not gonna come before I do, right?”

Wonwoo tries twice to tug his wrists out of Junhui’s grip without answering, but Junhui has plenty of leverage and he’s stronger than he looks. He pushes his hand down harder, grinding his hips back and forth, a smile still fixed in place. “Right?”

Stuck, Wonwoo nods his head, heels skidding across Junhui’s silky sheets. “Yeah,” he says, dragging the sound out of the back of his throat. He keeps nodding when Junhui arches his back and starts rolling his hips with a greater sense of urgency. The slap of skin-on-skin is loud in the otherwise quiet room and if he had control of his hands, Wonwoo would probably cover his mouth and stop the groans building up in his throat.

As it is, he’s mostly at Junhui’s mercy. He squirms his hips up uselessly under Junhui’s, nails cutting crescents into his palms. It’s a struggle to stick to his word and stave off the demanding white-hot light of his orgasm. It would be easy— more than easy— to let go of his clenched muscles and give in. But he wants to give Junhui what he asked for. Junhui must find an angle he particularly likes because he gasps, fluttering his eyes and rolling his hips back and forth. 

“Ah, I knew you’d be good,” Junhui says, honey dripping off his words. “You know exactly what I want, don’t you Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo doesn’t expect him to say anything so sweetly, or to cup his free hand around his cheekbone, stroking it gently. Blood pounds in Wonwoo’s head, the muscles in his legs beginning to tremble. When he blinks his eyes open to try and read Junhui’s expression, he finds his vision bleary with a film of tears. He turns his head to the side and opens his mouth for two of Junhui’s fingers. Anything to take his mind off the ache in his gut. The pads of Junhui’s fingers drag over his tongue on their way out of his mouth, leaving a thin trail of saliva going down Wonwoo’s chin. 

Junhui wraps the hand around his cock, damp fingers rolling over the tip. His jaw drops open, heaving each breath out hard. He releases Wonwoo’s wrists and fists a hand in his hair instead, pulling him into a rough, aggressive kiss. Wonwoo has seen Junhui enough times to know he’s close, both arms wrapping around his back to pull him closer. The thud of Junhui’s heart against his chest is strange and familiar to Wonwoo.

Junhui comes wit a strangled sound pressed through his teeth and against Wonwoo’s mouth. It vibrates through Wonwoo alongside the rhythmic clench and release of Junhui’s muscles. Wonwoo only lasts long enough to register Junhui’s orgasm in front of his mind. He turns his face to the side, burying it against the side of Junhui’s neck and making a sound uncomfortably close to a sob. Junhui’s hand in his hair goes from gripping to petting, mussing the loose curls of Wonwoo’s hair between his fingers.

It takes a few minutes for the trembling aftershocks in Wonwoo’s legs to stop. Junhui settles against his chest, scattering kisses at random across Wonwoo’s collarbone. Wonwoo opens his mouth but no words come to mind. His mind is soft and malleable as clay. Junhui’s fingers find a knot of in the muscles at the base of his skull and massage slow circles into it.

“Still with me?” Junhui says, whisper-quiet. Wonwoo nods, scrubbing his palms into his eyes to erase any evidence of lingering tears. Junhui catches him in the act and laughs, pulling Wonwoo’s hands away from his face and smothering his cheeks in kisses.

“Did you have fun?” Junhui asks like there isn’t a string of Wonwoo’s come leaking down his thigh.

“It was fine,” Wonwoo says, looking up at the ceiling instead of at Junhui’s face. Junhui laughs, stretching out on the bed next to Wonwoo. Wonwoo starts to sit up, intending to separate, shower and go back to work. But Junhui’s long limbs wrap around him, trapping him on the bed.

Wonwoo lays back, puts an arm around his waist and doesn’t argue for the moment.


End file.
